Mounted
by Battle Ferrets
Summary: Nick lags behind for just a moment, but that's all the time the Hunter needs. PWP. Hunter x Nick. A fill for a request on Left4bed. Kink: Frotting.


**Mounted**

_**by Hilary Francis**_

"Safe room up 'ere!" Ellis said, rushing ahead, whooping like he had back in Whispering Oaks, his sodden and muck-encrusted overalls seeming not to hinder his dash to the red painted door that the spray-painted symbol on a large tree said was nearby.

Rochelle shot Nick and Coach a look of amused exasperation before she sped up her pace to try and keep the hick in sight, Coach even managing to walk faster then Nick. Of course, the conman had the distinct disadvantage of having a sprained ankle, and trekking through the swamp-while it did keep the swelling down-was not helping the pain in the least. Coach had taken the last of their pain pills when he had gotten jumped by a Jockey; the little bastard had given the old man a wicked case of whiplash.

So Nick was feeling every year of his age and then some, and it left him slow, and lagging behind. He watched his footing carefully, not wanting to fall into some god-awful sinkhole and break his whole damn leg. When he looked up next, he was alone.

Which was when he heard the soft growl of a Hunter. Narrowing his eyes, he turned to raise his shotgun, only to find the Hunter a hell of a lot closer then he had thought; as it were, the hooded Infected was already airborne. It crashed into Nick with enough force to knock the air from his lungs in a breathy whoosh even as he was pinned, the shotgun having been knocked into the stagnant water only a few feet from him.

Clawed hands ripped at him, and Nick finally managed to suck in air, though all he could do was cough and gasp deeply as oxygen returned to his deprived lungs. The claws stopped once he could breath somewhat normally again to his surprise. He hesitated in screaming simply because there was no pain other then the rough and uneven ground beneath him. His undershirt was in absolute tatters around him, but his exposed chest didn't even have a raised welt from one of the claw-like nails grazing him.

Then he gathered his wits and sucked in a lungful of air, because to hell if he was going to let this stop him from how he usually responded to getting pounced. Before he could cry for help, however, the Hunter's hand clamped down on his neck, cutting off his airway once more. Sputtering, Nick struggled beneath the Infected. His punches were ineffective, the Hunter too close and him in too awkward a position to really deliver a solid punch. His bucking to try and throw the thing from atop him had some unexpected results though.

The Hunter gave what Nick couldn't have mistaken for anything other then a husky moan had he been drunk and half deaf. The hand relaxed a touch on his throat, and Nick gulped air greedily. It growled and, keeping it's hand clamped on Nick's neck - though no longer squeezing - repositioned itself so that rather then straddling the conman, it lay between his legs.

Staring up at the Special Infected, Nick tried to vocalize not only no, but _hell_ no, and the Hunter snarled and flexed it's hand, threatening to deprive Nick of oxygen yet again. His eyes flicked over the Hunter's face, but any expression he might have been able to discern was lost due to the eyeless, infected sockets and bared teeth.

Shifting where it lay, Nick's eyes grew wide at the feeling of what could only be the Infected's erection rubbing against his own flaccid cock through the material of their pants. Holy _shit_.

Nick was beginning to wonder why the hell he wasn't being missed by his teammate's right now. Sure, he wasn't the nicest of human beings, but goddammit, he had proven his worth by now. So why weren't they coming to rescue him from what was, in his opinion, the worst kind of Hunter he had encountered yet?

Said Infected didn't give Nick much time to think much further then that, because with a throaty growl that wafted it's foul smelling breath over his face in a nauseating wave it began to rut against him. A flush worked its way over his face and across his chest in embarrassment and he renewed his efforts at pushing the Hunter off of him.

He gasped when it suddenly screamed and raked a clawed hand across his exposed chest, tightening the other one around his throat so that he could only manage a choked groan in protest as the shallow wounds began to redden and spill small drops of blood. Getting the message, Nick stopped trying to shove the Infected off of him, and the Hunter stopped the pressure around his neck. Without his teammate's help, he could only endure whatever the Hunter dished out, and if that happened to be humping him like a horny dog rather then spilling his blood all over the spongy ground, then so be it.

The blood seemed to capture the Hunter's attention, and Nick turned away as that rotted mouth full of blood-and-worse-stained teeth neared his bare flesh. Teeth dug into his chest, but didn't break the skin, the Infected's tongue rasping against his open wounds, exploring the tattered edges it had made in his skin. This close to him, Nick could feel the almost feverish waves of heat coming off the hooded Infected, it's breath moist and warm, it's facial hair rough against his skin.

Slowing down it's frantic rutting, the Hunter seemed preoccupied with moving along the wounds on Nick's chest, using it's tongue and teeth to explore each one thoroughly. Nick didn't want to admit it, but his body was reacting to the combined stimuli. His last fling before this accursed zombie apocalypse had found out Nick's pain and pleasure wires crossed when it came to sex, and had left him with a telling scar upon his chest where she had exploited it.

The slow, steady rocking of the Hunter's erection against his own cock combined with the rough exploration of his chest was starting to have an effect. Then the Hunter followed the wound it was currently licking over Nick's nipple, and the conman made a sound as his own cock roused within the confines of his dress pants.

Pausing in it's ministrations, the Special Infected noticed the change, adjusting it's position again so that it could rub itself directly onto Nick's now fully erect cock. With a mournful moan, Nick's eyelids fluttered and his flush deepened to that of arousal rather then pure embarrassment, though that was definitely still there.

Nick had never heard a Hunter make the kind of growls the one atop him was making, and if he lived through this, he never wanted to again. His hands found purchase in the swampy ground, creating furrows that trickled full of water where his fingers curled into the soft, water-saturated soil. The Infected's mouth returned to worrying at his wounds, though they had been shallow enough that any blood they were going to shed had been lapped up by it's rough tongue already.

He found himself trying to angle himself against the Hunter, his pants constricting his erection painfully. Little noises of discomfort grunted from the back of his abused throat, causing the Hunter to tilt it's head and lift it's own hips enough that Nick could arch up into the Infected and attempt to readjust himself.

Whether the Hunter realized what he was doing or something else altogether, Nick suddenly found a clawed hand very close to his privates, and he stilled instantly. The Hunter's growls quickly grew in volume as it struggled to undo the rip off the conman's belt but the leather stayed where it was. Nick hurriedly took matters into his own hands - literally - as he quickly undid his belt buckle and slid the leather through his belt loops. He did not want those claws going crazy in the same vicinity as his cock, thank-you-very-much.

It's hand was suddenly occupied with pulling it's own pants down, but Nick blanched and looked away. It was bad enough that he was probably going to get acquainted with that part of the Hunter's anatomy soon enough; he did not want to see how disgusting it looked.

With a low muttering growl the Hunter grabbed the side of Nick's pants and pulled them down his thighs, one finger snagging his briefs and dragging them along too. Nick's cock sprang free and he swallowed the embarrassing sound he wanted to make when it brushed against the Infected's bared erection.

A deep rumble sounded from within the Hunter's chest, and it pushed it's hips flush against the conman's, trapping their erections between their bodies. Nick tried to squirm to get away from the raw heat emanating from the Infected's body, the warmth almost unbearable in the hot humidity of the swamp. His movements only served to encourage the Hunter, and it started it's previous thrusting, the hand not wrapped around his neck digging into the meat of his thigh and ass, claws puncturing his skin.

Nick threw his head back and closed his eyes, unwittingly baring his throat to the Infected. He smelled decay and then his eyes shot open as the Hunter closed it's teeth around his throat and held on tightly. The Hunter moaned, the vibrations traveling through Nick's skin, and let go of Nick's hip to reach between them.

The man cried out when he suddenly found his cock alongside the Infected's own in it's hand, and the Hunter didn't even squeeze his throat this time, removing the hand there to support it's weight as it began to simultaneously thrust against the conman and pump both their cocks in it's hand. It's teeth were still holding onto his neck, however, so he wasn't stupid enough to try and make a sound.

Though as the pleasure grew in him, he found himself unable to hold the sounds that passed through his parted lips back, and the Hunter didn't try to stop them. In fact, for every panted sound Nick made, the Special Infected would rub a thumb over the head of Nick's cock, causing the conman to thrust erratically against the Infected. Between the unbearable heat, and the friction, and the pain, he couldn't bear it for long.

Nick came with a choked cry that was _not_ a swallowed sob, his release splashing against the Hunter's hand and Nick's stomach. The Hunter stopped, and Nick slumped, completely exhausted. He had just gotten off to a goddamn zombie. If he hadn't been going to hell before this, he was sure he was going to have a little corner in the devil's bedroom all to himself now.

It seemed the Hunter wasn't done, however, as it sat up and raised itself onto it's knees, using both it's hands to reposition Nick. The conman's eyes widened and he shook his head. "Fuck no," He croaked, kicking and trying to crawl away. The Hunter shrieked and gave his legs a yank, it's erection suddenly flush against his ass.

A shot rang through the air, and the Hunter leaped off of him with a startled hiss. Nick pulled his pants up his hips hurriedly, feeling more exposed then he thought was possible, his eyes darting through the trees as he tried to pinpoint the location of his savior.

Ellis appeared through the brush, like some sort of back-water angel-hick, and took aim with his hunting rifle once more. The Hunter screeched and leaped away, multiple splashes steadily fading in volume indicating it's retreat. Ellis watched it go for a moment before he lowered his gun and turned to attend to Nick.

The conman couldn't stop the angry flush that spread high across his cheekbones, and he didn't meet the other man's eyes as he did up his pants and belt. Nick removed his mostly intact jacket to get rid of the last few pathetic scraps of shirt beneath, donning the jacket once more and doing up the few buttons it had, needing to cover himself.

Only then did he stand and fetch his shotgun from the too-still water beside him. "What took you so long?" He said, his voice strained. Because of the Hunter, not because of the rush of emotions he felt. Honest.

"Well, shit, Nick," Ellis started, hand raising to tug at the bill of his cap abashedly. "Funny t'ing is we was _almos'_ ta the safe room, bu' then-a bleedin' Tank came outta _nowhere_ an-"

A huge weight fell from Nick's shoulders that he didn't know had been there until it was gone, and he relaxed and walked up to Ellis, clapping a hand on his shoulder before letting it slide away to hang numbly by his side. He didn't dare to meet the hick's eyes, but Ellis's mouth looked plenty concerned, not to mention closed.

There was no way he hadn't put together what had happened, and Nick couldn't quite figure out how to threaten him in a way that he would never speak of it.

Then Ellis just wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed once before letting him go and giving him a 'no harm done' smile. "Let's getcha ta the safe room and getcha healed up. Coach 'n' Ro'll be happier'n pigs in shit."

Nick actually liked Ellis at that moment, and managed a smirk as he fell into step beside the redneck, the silence companionable for the first time since they met.

"Did I ever tell-ya abou' the time-"

Of course, silence never lasted long with Ellis.


End file.
